Chapter 45: A Fate Worse Than Death
"I was outside the door for three minutes," she corrected, "which in this palace is long enough to stage a coup or fake a death certificate."
Trevor finally looked up. "You’re slipping. Two minutes and thirty seconds is usually your limit."
Serathine arched a brow. "I like to give men the illusion of privacy before I interrupt."
She crossed to the desk, ignoring the chairs altogether. Instead, she leaned against the edge like she’d been summoned rather than excluded.
Her eyes flicked to the file.
"Did you read it?"
"I did. It’s even worse than the first one; whenever it is Faceless Agatha knows what they are doing." Caelan said it calmly, but the other two knew him long enough to know that he was mad.
There’s a section," Caelan went on, "that wasn’t in the other versions. One that seems to be exclusive—meant only for Misty and Faceless Agatha."
He exhaled. Controlled. Cold.
"It’s vile."
Trevor reopened the file. The paper was crisp, unaged. Preserved on purpose.
Serathine leaned in, her gaze sharp, scanning the page until she reached the clause Caelan had marked. There was a brief silence before she began to read aloud—voice flat, like she was reading a financial statement.